


Expunction

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Series: Chakotay/Paris Fiction Series [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crossover, Deep Space Nine Season 06, False Hopes, Light BDSM, M/M, Polyamory, Polygamy, Redemption, Voyager Season 04, a way home, hopes dashed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: The crew ofVoyagerare surprised to find theUSS Rio Grande, a runabout registered toDeep Space Nine, on an intercept course withVoyagerin the Delta Quadrant. How did a runabout make it to the Delta Quadrant, and why is the occupant not responding to hails.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zonya35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonya35/gifts).



> This story is brand new and not yet complete. I am writing this partly for myself, but mostly for [Zonya35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zonya35/pseuds/zonya35) to make it up to her for what I did to Julian Bashir in my "Images" Voyager series.
> 
> I hope this makes it better. <3
> 
> This story coincides with VOY Season 04 and DS9 Season 06, for the sake of timeline and setting, but may not follow either series as far as plot goes.
> 
> It also loosely follows my stories Broken Images, Dark Images and Beloved Enemy in that order.
> 
> * * *

“Captain, I’m picking up a vessel on long-range sensors.” Harry Kim frowned over his console, hands gliding over controls as he analysed readings. “Nineteen-million kilometres off to starboard. It’s on an intercept course.”

Captain Janeway glanced at Chakotay and turned to look at Harry. “Identity?”

“Unknown,” Kim replied. “I’m working on it.”

Tuvok glanced at the ensign and conducted a scan from the tactical console. He lifted an eyebrow. “Curious…” he said.

Harry Kim spoke at the same moment. “That’s not possible…” He frowned and repeated the analysis. “It appears to be a federation vessel, Captain.”

Janeway was on her feet in an instant. “Do we have visual?”

“EM interference is blocking our ability to get clear images,” Tuvok said. “However…” he tapped a control and the view screen lit up with a fuzzy image of a small vessel.

Walking forward, the captain paused behind the helm console, gazing at the craft on screen. “It looks like a runabout,” she murmured. “Can we hail the vessel?”

“Negative.” Tuvok frowned at his console. “There is too much interference.”

“Bring us to all stop, Tom.” Janeway returned to her chair. “Let’s keep trying to hail it.”

“All stop, Captain,” Tom responded, entering the command on his console.

A few moments passed while the bridge crew watched the fuzzy outline of the vessel enlarge as it approached them.

Tom Paris studied the image, eyes narrowed, brows drawn downward in concentration. In his academy days, he’d been renowned for his ability to identify a ship by silhouette alone. His classmates would put him to the test, offering him distorted images in an attempt to foil him. Tom gnawed his lower lip, trying to form a mental image of the ship’s class and designation based on the blurred lines on screen.

He shot a glance over his shoulder at the captain. “It’s a Danube Class,” he said.

Behind the captain, Tuvok tapped a control, accessing the ship’s database and glancing up at the view screen for reference. “Line and configuration would appear to match,” he said.

“Can you clear up that image at all, Commander?” Janeway glanced over at him.

Tuvok concentrated on his console for a long moment. “Attempting to compensate for radiation.” He met the captain’s eyes as he recalibrated Voyager’s tactical sensors. “On screen, Captain.”

Every eye on the bridge turned to the view screen.

Tom frowned. “That looks like…”

At that moment, Harry gave a satisfied grunt and looked up. “I’ve got a fix on her registry. It’s the USS Rio Grande.”

Turning his chair to face the captain, Tom nodded. “I was just going to say that. The Rio Grande is registered to Deep Space Nine.”

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged a speaking glance.

“How did that vessel get out here? A runabout doesn’t have that kind of warp capability,” Chakotay said.

“That’s something I intend to find out,” Kathryn murmured. “Commander Tuvok, any progress on hailing the vessel? Are there life signs aboard?”

“One human life sign,” Tuvok replied. “The vessel is not responding to hails.”

“Whoever’s aboard may be injured,” Tom put in.

Janeway stood up. “As soon as it is within range put a tractor beam on it and bring it aboard. Tuvok.” She walked towards the turbo lift, the Vulcan at her side. “I’m going to the shuttle bay. Commander, you have the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain.” Chakotay nodded, moving to the captain’s chair.

Tom returned his gaze to the screen. “A runabout from Deep Space Nine all the way out here?” He gave a slight shake of his head. “I wanna meet the pilot who could accomplish _that.”_

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom turns to the only person who can truly understand and comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Since Voyager ended, I have become aware that there are people who have deep issues with how Chakotay's Native American/Mayan heritage was portrayed in the show. Bearing this in mind, I am endeavoring to be as sensitive as I can, and playing down the emphasis on his heritage. I do not intend to create offence with my writing, but to tell a story as true to canon as possible whilst incorporating my own ideas and research. Chakotay uses a word for Tom in this chapter which I have drawn from a list of words I found online. "Taamet," meaning "Sun." Unfortunately, I closed the tab before I made a note of where I found this, so I apologize for not crediting the proper people group for the word. (If you know which language this word originates from, please let me know so that I can credit it.)
> 
> * * *

Voyager was abuzz with the news of their discovery by the time Tom’s duty shift ended. He made his way to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat, listening to eager conversations in the halls and turbolifts. Crewmembers speculating about the _Rio Grande_ how it had come to the Delta Quadrant, who was aboard, what did this mean for _Voyager?_ Could it be the runabout carried a solution to their quest to get home?

All questions Tom had asked, himself. As a senior officer he was privy to more information than the ‘lower decks.’ He knew the name of the pilot, for instance. Doctor Julian Bashir.

Tom barely registered Neelix’s chirpy greeting, nor the Talaxian’s chatter about the news of the hour as Neelix poured him a cup of coffee.

He carried his meal and the coffee to a table, glancing up a moment later as Harry Kim joined him. “Hey Har.” Tom smiled taking a sip of coffee as he met the ensign’s gaze across the table.

“Tom.” Harry grinned. “Interesting day, huh?”

“You could say that.” Tom picked up a fork, poking at the strange purple vegetables on his plate. “It hasn’t done much to change the menu around here, though.” He took a tentative bite, finding that the texture and taste wasn’t all that bad.

“I looked up Bashir’s service records,” Harry said. “What I have clearance for, anyway. Impressive.”

Tom huffed a breath. “Naturally.”

Harry frowned at him. “Tom? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Tom gave himself a mental shake. “I’m fine,” He added, forcing a smile to his lips. He could at least try to share some of Harry’s enthusiasm. “Just tired, hungry…”

“Lying.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “C’mon, Tom.  I know you too well. What’s bugging you?”

“No really,” Tom tried, but the look Harry levelled on him made him shrug. “OK. I guess I’m a little rattled is all.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Julian Bashir and I were kind of classmates.”

“You _know_ him?” Harry sat back a little in his chair, his gaze kindling with renewed interest. “Do you know what I’d _give_ to claim an acquaintance with someone…”

Tom held his hands up. “Easy, Har. I wouldn’t say I _know_ him. We were at the Academy around the same time. He was a year or two ahead of me. We uh…met once at a party…” He focused on his dinner, eating several forkfuls without speaking.

“So, by met you mean you slept with him.”

“Harry!” Tom glanced around the room. “Hold it down, would ya?”

The ensign huffed a laugh. “Sorry.” The gleam of amusement in his dark eyes told Tom how insincere the apology was. Tom sighed.

“Anyway, I doubt that he even remembers me. If he does, he’s probably gonna have the same attitude to me that every other member of Starfleet had back home…and here, at first. I’ve spent years shaking off that stigma, proving myself. I don’t exactly relish the thought of having to face all that again.”

“Well, maybe things have changed back home, too.” Harry met Tom’s gaze. “I’m pretty sure the captain said good things about you when we sent those messages. You should’ve read the letters from my folks—they were full of how proud they were that Captain Janeway sent them her own special commendation of me.”

“Maybe.” Tom nodded, relaxing a little. He pushed his empty plate away and stood up. “Anyway, I’m heading home for a shower. “Meet me at Sandrine’s later? I’ll strip you of a few more replicator rations at the pool tables.”

Harry chuckled. “Sure, Tom. See you about eighteen-hundred?”

“Till then,” Tom clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he passed him on the way to the doors.

Stepping into the hallway, Tom hesitated a moment and then turned in the direction of the upper deck, heading for Chakotay’s quarters instead of his own. 

* * *

Chakotay emerged from the shower into his sleeping quarters, buff naked and toweling his hair vigorously. He glanced up at the sound of the door sliding open. There was only one person aboard who had open access. He smiled. “In the bedroom, Tom.”

“I’ve got you right where I want you then,” Tom purred as he came through the door. He paused and let out a low whistle at the sight that greeted him. “Really, you didn't need to dress up. This is not a formal visit.”

Chuckling, the commander accepted a peck on the lips from his lover. “Dinner?” he asked as Tom headed for the bathroom.

“I just ate. You go ahead.” Tom disappeared into the bathroom and Chakotay heard the shower start. He dried off and dressed in off duty fatigues before heading to the replicator.

Chakotay was sitting on a sofa going over duty reports when Tom emerged from the bedroom swathed in one of Chakotay’s bathrobes. It swam on the slight frame, accentuating Tom’s fine bone structure and lean figure. Chakotay drank him in for a moment. He’d felt the aura of tension in the pilot when Tom had come in earlier and Tom’s shower hand't dissipated it. The commander watched him for a long moment.

“Something on your mind?” he asked eventually.

Tom smiled, shaking his head. He moved behind Chakotay, hands coming to knead the commander’s shoulders. The action was not lost on Chakotay. Tom’s avoidance strategies were al too familiar. By standing behind him, Tom sought to evade Chakotay’s gaze.

He let it slide for a moment, a soft moan of pleasure escaping him as Tom’s fingers found a knot of tension in his right shoulder, firmly massaging it away.

“You’re remarkably good at that,” Chakotay said. “But your own tension is coming off you in waves. What’s the matter, Tom?”

“I had a busy shift!” Irritation gave the words a brittle edge. “God, can’t I have a bad day without everyone on board asking me what’s wrong?” The pilot swung away, walking to the replicator where he ordered Synth Ale.

“Your shift was no busier than usual.” Chakotay turned to watch him. “In fact, today was fairly routine, except for finding a federation runabout in the Delta Quadrant.” He met Tom’s eyes. “While you’re there, I’d like a cup of tea.”

Tom spoke the order for tea and brought the steaming cup to Chakotay. He sat next to the commander, rubbing his forehead with the slender fingers of one hand. “You might not think that’s very remarkable,” he said. “I mean it’s only my past managing to catch up with me…again.”

Chakotay nodded. “So,you tell me what this Doctor Bashir is to you and we work out how we will deal with the situation.”

Tom lifted his head looking into Chakotay’s eyes. “He’s…nothing. But then he’s… I don’t know. He knows things—or _knew_ things about me. Things I thought I’d finally managed to leave behind me.” He sighed, staring into the glass he still held looking into the past. “Julian knew me at my worst, Cha. I stole from him. I abused his trust. I…”

“Tom, you are not the same man who was forced to join this crew four years ago.”

“I know that. You know that…”

“And everyone aboard this vessel knows that, Tom. Each and every one of us owe you a debt. Your skills have saved us all from annihilation more than once.”

Tom bowed his head.

“Those things you did back then? Those were the man you were, not the man you are. Not my mate. And who’s to say this Bashir hasn’t fallen from grace himself in that time. You can’t say that you know this man, or how he will think.”

“Julian was my lover, Cha…”

The words were spoken so softly that Chakotay might have missed them had he not been focused on Tom so intently.

“When I joined Voyager, at Deep Space Nine, Julian tried to see me, talk to me. I told him that we had nothing to say to one another.”

Chakotay pulled in a breath. “You were troubled back then. You were fresh out of prison, in custody to Kathryn. Your focus had to be on that. Turning him away was understandable under those circumstances.”

“Have you been to sickbay?” Tom met Chakotay’s eyes. “Have you seen him?”

The commander passed his tongue across suddenly dry lips. He shook his head. “No. Doctor Bashir is still unconscious. The doctor is keeping the captain apprised of his condition.” He paused, studying Tom’s clouded blue eyes for a long moment. “do you still have feelings for Julian?”

“What? No! I left him behind a long time ago, Chakotay.” Tom’s gaze wavered and fell away. He shook his head, confusion evident. “I… I don’t know what to think.” He turned to Chakotay and got to his feet. “I need to see him.”

“You can’t, Tom. Not yet. His condition is serious. The EMH won’t even allow Kathryn into sickbay.” Chakotay gently took the untouched synth ale from Tom’s hand. “Right now, you’re creating stress where there needn’t be any. Focus on me, Tom, listen to me. Let me help you.”

Tom closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

“That’s it. Find your center. You are a good man, Tom Paris. My Taamet* My beloved. I will not allow anything to harm you. This goes beyond any life debt I owe you. You are my soulmate. I will not let your past harm you or come between us. Do you understand?”

Tom nodded, breathing out a long, shaky breath. “Yes.” Some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Where do you belong?”

“Here,” Tom breathed out. “I belong here.”

“Who guards your spirit guide?”

“We do.” Tom opened his eyes and looked up. A smile touched his lips and Chakotay could see the renewed focus in the pilot’s eyes.

This grounding exercise was something they’d devised after the Krenim Time Ship had almost torn them apart. Tom’s grief over Obrist had come between them, pushing them asunder as Tom fought to come to terms with the idea that the man he’d fallen in love with on board that monstrous weapon ship could simply have been erased from time.

Chakotay laid a hand on Tom’s cheek, stroking with his thumb, brushing away the tiny trace of a tear. “Why don’t we go to Sandrine’s for a drink and then we can check in with the doctor about the condition of our new passenger?”

“I wasn't planning to see you tonight. It's not our regular time...”

This distancing, too, had arisen in Tom since the Krenim incident. This need to hold Chakotay at arm’s length. The commander knew it stemmed from Tom’s inability to forgive himself and he gave the pilot space as much as possible, but at times, he yearned for their former closeness. He breathed past the hurt of Tom’s words.

Tom’s blue eyes flickered with the knowledge of the hurt he’d inflicted. He drew a breath. “But…I’d like it if you’d come to Sandrine’s”

“Then you had better dress in more than my bathrobe.”

“Or, maybe I should take it off...” Tom pulled Chakotay in for a kiss.”

“I thought this wasn’t my night for this particular pleasure,” Chakotay murmured against Tom’s mouth.

“Any night is a good night for pleasure.”

And Chakotay allowed it, because he was human. Because Tom’s distance stung him more than he’d admit Because a small voice at the back of his mind told him things may yet become worse between them than they already were.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Julian Bashir woke to the restful ambience of an infirmary on Delta Shift. Somewhere nearby the hum of lifesupport emanated from a biobed. The soft chirps, beeps and tones of monitoring systems sounding a steady counterpoint.

He wondered, for a moment, if he’d fallen asleep on duty, but there was something wrong with that thought. As awareness unfurled he ascertained that he seemed to be lying supine on a firm, supportive surface. He frowned, trying to make his mind focus, trying to open his eyes, trying to…  
Sudden panic set in. He drew a sharp breath. _I can’t move. I can’t feel…anything! I…_ His breath quickened in line with his increased heart rate.  
“Help me!”  
“Doctor.” A gentle feminine voice spoke nearby.  
“I can’t see! I can’t feel! I can’t…”  
“It’s all right,” the woman’s voice spoke close to his ear. “You’re in an isotropic restraint.”  
“But my eyes.”  
“Your vision was affected by radiation, Doctor Bashir.” A brisk, authoritative tone cut in. “You sustained injuries to your eyes which we have treated. The blindness should only be temporary.”  
Julian attempted to slow his panicked breathing. “Where am I? I don’t recognize your voice, Doctor…?”  
“You’re aboard the Federation star ship USS Voyager, in the Delta Quadrant. I am the Emergency Medical Holoprogram.”  
“Voyager…” Julian shook his head. “The Delta Quadrant? But how can that be? I was en-route to Deep Space Nine…I was returning from…”  
The chirp of a comm pin interrupted Julian.  
“Sickbay to the Bridge. Captain, Doctor Bashir is awake.”  
“On my way." A brisk female voice responded.  
Julian huffed a breath, panic and confusion turning to frustration. “Why am I restrained, is it entirely necessary now that I am awake?”  
The gentle female voice he’d heard first spoke. A hand stroking his forehead. “It’s important that you remain still, Doctor. It’s just while the injuries heal.”  
“Please. Call me Julian,” he said, turning his head a little in the direction of that soothing voice. Her very presence was that of calm. Julian drew a long breath. “Are you Betazoid?”  
“Betazoid? I’m … not sure what that means. My name is Kes.”  
“Betazoid.” The authoritative voice was back. “An inhabitant of the planet Betazed. An M Class planet located in the Alpha quadrant. The Betazoid people are empaths, they also possess telepathic abilities.” A Pause. “Hm…I’d never considered it previously, but the Ocampa race do bear some similarity. There is the telepathy, for instance, and your highly developed sense of compassion…”  
“Thank you, Doctor.” Kes’s voice broke in. “I’ll look Betazed up later.” Her small hand continued to smooth across Julian’s brow and he found himself relaxing under her touch.  
A few moment’s later a door slid open somewhere to Julian’s left and the footfalls of at least three people approached.  
“How is he doctor?” The female voice Julian had heard over the coms.  
Julian turned his head, listening as the EMH gave a brief report. He couldn’t make out everything that was said. Something about his eyes, and he thought he caught the word ‘spinal.’ Julian sighed in frustration. “It would be nice if someone could give _me_ a full explanation of my injuries,” he muttered. “Where’s your Chief Medical Officer?”  
“We don’t have one,” Kes replied. “The Doctor has been here since before I arrived on Voyager.”  
“Thank you, Kes.” The woman whom Julian assumed must be the captain spoke nearby.  
“Captain.” Julian raised his chin, the closest he was going to get to adopting a more formal stance, given his supine state. “Forgive me if I don’t stand up.”  
“Doctor Bashir. I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway. My first officer, Chakotay, and my chief of security, Tuvok.”  
“Quite the welcoming party,” Julian murmured. “Especially given that I appear to be in no condition to pose a threat.”  
“Oh, it’s not about you posing a threat,” Janeway replied. “We’re just…so surprised to find anyone from home this far out.”  
“No more surprised than I am to find myself here, I’m sure.”  
“How did you come to be here?” Measured tones, unmistakably Vulcan.  
“I… I’m not sure, precisely. I’d been to the Gamma Quadrant, delivering medical supplies and conducting a vaccination program on one of the small planets near the wormhole. It was completely routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. I returned through the wormhole and was making my approach to Deep Space Nine…”  
“Your ship is structurally intact.” Another male voice, slightly accented. “No external damage, but an internal plasma conduit had exploded.”  
“I…don’t remember…” Julian frowned. “I...no wait. There was something. Some sort of turbulence or…I don’t know exactly what. I was attempting to compensate. I lost comms. I…nothing was familiar…I ran scans saw a federation insignia and laid in a course.”  
Silence descended on the room. Julian turned his head, blindly, straining to hear any sound other than the soft hums and whistles of the life support systems he was connected to. “Hello?”  
“Do you recall anything else? Anything at all?” The captain’s voice, gently insistent.  
“I don’t. I swear I…” Julian shook his head. “I don’t know how I got here. I don’t fully comprehend any of this.”  
“Captain,” The EMH said. “I think it is time you all left. Doctor Bashir needs to rest.”  
“Of course,” the captain said. “Doctor Bashir, all you need to do is concentrate on getting better. We will have time to investigate this in more detail once you’re fully recovered.”  
Julian felt another wave of panic rising within as he listened to the footsteps receding. “I have to get out of this…” he muttered. “I have to get home. Doctor…Emergency Holoprogram…are you here?”  
“Yes. Where else would I be.”  
“Then get me out of this damned machine!” Julian tried his best to struggle against the restraint. “I need to get out…get me out!”  
“Panic will not help your condition, Doctor.”  
Soft beeps of a hypospray being loaded made Julian struggle all the more.  
“What you need, is rest.”

No! No, stop! I need my faculties…” Julian tried to pull away as the instrument was pressed to his neck and the hiss of discharge brought him oblivion.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dressed in off-duty fatigues, Commander Chakotay sat on the small sofa in his quarters. He held a padd in one hand and a cup of Raktajino in the other, perusing a duty report from engineering. Delta shift had been routine for Lt Carey, running diagnostics, calibrating this or that system. Chakotay stifled a yawn. The Delta Shift had been much the same ship-wide, except for sickbay and the bridge when Julian Bashir had regained consciousness in the first hours of the watch.

Letting the hand holding the padd fall to his lap, Chakotay reflected on his first meeting with a man from Tom’s past who obviously still had the power to rattle the pilot.

The doctor was dark haired, with hazel eyes that stared, unseeing in Kathryn’s direction. There wasn’t much else to see of him, given the isotropic restraint, but Chakotay had gained an impression of a lightly built man around the same height as Tom.

He’d seemed civil, if a little tense. Understandably so under the circumstances. The other impression Chakotay took from the meeting was that Tom had a ‘type’ when it came to men. Favoring coloring diametrically opposite Tom’s own. Different, too, to Tom’s usual taste for blonde, blue eyed women.

Chakotay sipped his drink, glancing up when the door to his quarters slid open and Tom breezed in.

Polished was the word that came to mind describing his appearance. From his head with not a hair out of place, his skin scrubbed and smelling pleasantly of the cologne he favored, something spicy with the merest hint of floral notes. His uniform newly freshened, comm pin at precise regulation position. Right down to his well shined boots. A marked contrast to the Tom Paris of earlier years on Voyager.

Chakotay smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. “Good morning.”

“Hello.” Tom moved to the replicator, spoke an order for hot coffee and joined Chakotay on the sofa.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Chakotay said.

“I had a few moments to spare.” Tom smiled. “I figured I’d drop by. I hate when were on opposite rotations.”

“I can’t roster us off together all the time, people would talk.”

“Like they don’t talk already.”

“They’d also get resentful. Besides, I need to give Harry some time with you too.”

Tom sighed. “I guess so.” His mood lightened a moment later. “But since I’m here… Maybe we could take a few minutes to…” He leaned in, brushing his lips against Chakotay’s mouth.

For a moment, Chakotay leaned in, returning those passionate kisses, twining his tongue with Tom’s eyes closed, savoring what Tom offered, but then he pulled back, gently pushing Tom away.

“You’re due in sickbay in forty-five minutes,” he said. “And I might be officially off duty, but I have fifteen duty reports to go over.  Duty calls.”

“‘Tay?” tom’s expression grew pensive, blue eyes clouded with unspoken worry. “What if he wakes up while I’m on duty in sickbay?”

Chakotay sighed. “Doctor Bashir regained consciousness during Delta Shift.”

“Shit.” Tom looked away, pushed a hand through his hair, mussing his perfectly combed locks. After a moment, he looked into Chakotay’s eyes. “You fancy a visit to sickbay?”

Smiling Chakotay shook his head. Whilst he appreciated Tom wanting his presence, he knew he couldn’t hold Tom’s hand this time. “He’s in a bad way, Tom. He could use…a friend.”

Tom nodded, passing his tongue across his lower lip. “I guess I should go then.”

“Tom, before you go, I think you should be prepared. Doctor Bashir’s injuries are extensive. He took quite a charge from a ruptured plasma conduit. The EMH has repaired the burns…”

“Burns?” Tom paled. “Oh my God. How bad is it? Julian…he’s…God, ‘Tay, he’s always…well, Julian…his looks are…”

“When I saw him last night, he had only just regained consciousness. He’s naturally confused and frightened.” Chakotay held Tom’s gaze. “He’s blind, Tom. The Doctor has him in an isotropic restraint while the injuries to his spine heal. It may be some time before he walks again.”

“Oh, Fuck!” Tom closed his eyes. “No. Whatever happened between us, Julian is a good guy, He doesn’t deserve…” The pilot got to his feet.

“Tom.” Taking hold of Tom’s hands, Chakotay pulled him gently back onto the sofa. “Listen.”

“What am I supposed to say to him, ‘Tay?  I broke his trust, and he’s vulnerable.  He’s going to be… ”

“You’ll treat him just the same as any other patient in your care. Kindly, gently. What to say will stem from that.” Chakotay let a smile touch his lips. “Just remember your training. Julian is your patient first and foremost. Your history with him is not the issue right now.”

“He’ll either hate me or be afraid of me.”

“I don’t think he will.”

“I was afraid of you.”

“I’d given you every reason to be. Put yourself in his position. Alone, far from home, hurt, in unfamiliar surroundings. To hear a familiar voice. Would that frighten or comfort you?”

Tom sighed. After a moment he nodded. “Can I stay here tonight, after my shift?”

“I’m on Delta again, but if you’d feel better to be here, then of course you can.”

\--

Julian lay staring into the infinite darkness that had become his world. He strained to hear any sound above the hum of his biobed and the beeping of monitors. He couldn’t tell if anyone was nearby or not. Kes had checked in on him before ending her shift, but no one else had come to his bedside since. Julian passed his tongue over dry lips, sighing with frustration at his confinement, the inability to see, and the complete disregard of the EMH who had barely spoken to him since the sedation had worn off a couple of hours ago. “It might as well have been a couple of days,” Julian muttered to himself.  He fell silent at the sound of the sickbay doors sliding open and closed. Frowning, Julian turned his head in that direction. He could hear the murmur of voices, but they were too soft for him to make out the words.

\--

“Ah, Mister Paris. On time for once.” Without pausing for Tom’s response the EMH launched into the handover report. “As you are no doubt aware, we have one critical care patient in sickbay presently. Add to that the usual run of headaches, muscle strains and toothache…”

“Yeah. I met Johannes on my way in,” Tom said. “I wish he’d let us extract that tooth.” He paused and then asked. “How is … Doctor Bashir?”

“He regained consciousness at zero-one-thirty-eight this morning. He was agitated, and I ordered sedation. He is awake, but still on a low doses of Melorazine to keep him calm. He doesn’t seem to tolerate being restrained very well.”

“If you only knew him,” Tom murmured. _Melorazine,_ he thought. _Ironic…the very drug Julian caught me pilfering from his medical supplies._

“The main issues at present are the spinal injury and blindness though the rate of recovery is satisfactory.” As he spoke, the EMH handed Tom a padd.

Glancing down at it, Tom saw the scans of Julian’s upper spine. Several cervical vertebrae were damaged. He winced, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing to read the diagnostics.

“There is some residual inflammation to his face and upper torso from the burns, however that will recede with time. I’ve prescribed Dermaline Gel to help with any lingering discomfort.”

“Good,” Tom said. “That’s…good.”

“Unfortunately, Doctor Bashir’s tolerance of my attendance on him is…minimal. I think it preferable if his care is assigned to Kes, yourself and the night shift.”

Tom shook his head. It was no use trying to tell the doctor that it was his own attitude that caused patients’ frustration more often than not. The EMH had never understood that. He drew a deep breath and left the office, headed for the main sickbay.

No other patients were seeking attention, so Tom decided to bite the bullet. He walked towards ICU.

“Hello?” Julian called. “Is someone there? Kes?”

Tom swallowed hard, slowing his steps. He pulled in a long breath and squared his shoulders. “Well, I’m not Kes, but I’ve been told I’m almost as pretty.”

“Hello! I…” Julian frowned and huffed a breath. “I’m afraid I can’t see you to judge that. I…wait…Is that…Tom?”

“In the flesh.  I help out in sickbay when I’m not at the helm.”

Julian closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “Dear God, Tom Paris…you have no idea how good it is to hear a familiar voice.”

Tom moved to the bedside and put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “It’s just as good to see a different face to all the ones I’ve been forced to look at for the past four years…” He squeezed a little. “And, if you promise to behave, I might be able to persuade the doc to ease up on the drugs so you’ll be awake a bit more.” He watched as a tear slipped across Julian’s cheek, catching it with a swab before it ran into the man’s ear.

“I’ll… do my best,” Julian choked and then, he broke, sobbing, while Tom did his best to comfort him.

“It’s all right, I’m here.”

Recovering his composure with an effort, Julian nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve been less than a model patient.”

“All doctors are bad patients. You should have seen our EMH when he gave himself the Flu.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  As a pilot, I make a lousy passenger.” He paused for a moment, studying Julian’s face. “You’re going to get better, Jules.”

“I hope so. I can’t feel anything below my shoulders.”

“You got pretty banged up, but everything should mend with time.”

“Tom, tell  me. The EMH only said that I was burned and I have some spinal injuries. I’m a _doctor_ I need to know the full  extent… what _type_  of spinal injury? Why am I blind? Was it from the burns? Radiation?” Julian’s breathing and heart rate amped up as he went on. “I cannot… I’ll  cope better if I understand…”

“Okay, easy. Do you want the doc to order more Melorazine?” Tom squeezed Julian’s shoulder again. “Your eyes may take some time to recover because they were damaged by radiation, not trauma. You have several crushed vertebrae.That has caused extensive bruising and inflammation. It’s placed pressure on the nerves, so you can’t feel anything.”

“So the spinal cord is intact.” Julian nodded. “Kes  applied Dermaline Gel on my skin earlier. I had plasma burns?”

“Yes, mostly lateral on the dextral shoulder, torso and arm. They are healing.”

“Right.” Julian drew a deep breath and let it out. “My face tingles…from regeneration.”

“Yes, you had some burns there.”

“I’m lucky to be alive, I suppose.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Tom said softly. “You…get used to it.” He paused. “How _are_ you here? Do you remember?”

“I don’t know what happened. All I recall is the runabout being struck by something…turbulence, I don’t know. Then, I was in unfamiliar space. I saw a federation insignia and set a course. That must be when the conduit ruptured.” Julian shook his head. “I don’t understand it. Perhaps it’s all just some kind of hallucinatory space sickness. Albeit a very creative one. I’m impressed with your Medical jargon.” He chuckled.

“You’re not hallucinating, Jules. You really are on Voyager.”

“Ah, but of course you’d _say that.”_

Tom tugged on the doctor’s earlobe.

“Ow! No fair. I can’t retaliate.” Julian grinned and then sobered. “How long will I have to remain in this damned restraint?”

“You’re recovering well. A day or two more, maybe. Are you hungry? I can go get you something from the dining room. Leola Root Stew is an experience you’re going to _love_. I’d replicate you something, but I’m low this month and Chakotay hasn’t assigned you rations yet.”

Julian didn’t reply for a moment. He closed his eyes, and Tom wondered if the doctor had fallen asleep. He was about to move away when Julian spoke.

“I wrote to you, Tom. When Starfleet received the news that Voyager hadn’t been destroyed in the Badlands. I knew you probably couldn’t reply, but…”

“Lot of water under the bridge since we left the Alpha Quadrant. I’ve changed, Julian. I’ve got a place here. I belong.”

“Of course, I understand that. I…did you _read_ my letter?”

“I didn’t receive it. A lot of messages got through but the network we were using degraded before we could download them all.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Julian sighed. “That’s basically what it said.  I was...so foolish back then, I couldn't see past my own nose. I couldn't see that what you needed was understanding.”

“I wasn’t easy to get close to, Julian, we both know that.”

“But I let my feelings cloud my judgement and pushed you away when I should have been a better…friend.”

“It’s all in the past now.”

“The things you’ve achieved, Tom. Your captain commended you in the most glowing of terms. Transwarp? Tom…that’s incredible!”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Tom shook his head, forgetting that Julian couldn’t see the gesture. “There’s a lot about _that_ mission that I prefer to forget.”

“Now I _know_ I’m hallucinating! Tom Paris not wanting to take credit for something like that?”

Tom shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve changed. Most members of this crew have achieved incredible feats just keeping us alive and together. I’m no more special than any of them.”

“Well you hold the record, like it or not. It’s in the Starfleet Annals. Thomas Eugene Paris, first man to achieve warp ten.”

Tom sighed. “Okay. Then I guess it’s history. Now you need to get some rest. I’ll go fetch you something to eat.”

Julian listened to the measured tread of the man he’d once called a lover retreating until the doors hissed open and closed again. He let out a shaky breath. He still didn’t understand how, or why he'd come to this place, and knew even less about how he would return home.

“Perhaps, in some small way it’s an opportunity to make restitution,” he murmured. _To expunge the past and close that chapter for good._

Sleep called him, and Julian went willingly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sincere apologies that it has taken me so long to post more of this story. I had a very complex unit of study in the first semester of University which kept me away from my writing, and then I immediately got snowed under by the beginning of the second semester!
> 
> Here's a short chapter in any case.

At the end of a long split shift, Sickbay on Alpha shift, followed by Helm for Beta through Gamma shifts, Tom walked into his personal quarters. He was tired, hungry, and desperately wanted a shower. He began to strip out of his uniform as the door slid closed behind him.

A flicker of movement caught Tom’s eye and he stopped in his tracks, staring in confusion at the man who stood just outside the door to his sleeping quarters.

“Julian? What…how did you…”

“Hello, Tom. I’m happy to see you, too.” Bashir’s voice was edged with amused sarcasm.

“But I… You’re in sickbay, in a restraint…you’re not supposed to be in my quarters…hell you’re not even supposed to be able to  _ walk!” _

“Details.” Julian chuckled, made a dismissive gesture with one hand as he approached Tom. “I mean it. It really  _ is _ good to see you.” Julian slipped his arms around Tom’s neck,  pulling the pilot into a hungry kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured against Tom’s lips. “So very much.”

“I…” Tom began, but the taste and memory of Julian on his tongue, in his arms, was heady. He closed his eyes, pushing closer to the man he’d called lover so long ago. He lost himself in the passion of those kisses for long moments.

Without Tom being truly aware of how, they were suddenly in his bed, naked, skin pressed against skin. He moaned softly, surrendering to Julian’s kisses, caresses. He arched his back with a cry when Julian’s fingers closed around his achingly erect cock. 

“Yes…yes, my sweet Tom.” Julian’s breath gusted warm against Tom’s neck, his hand stroking up and down the shaft of Tom’s cock. He kissed his way from Tom’s earlobe to his mouth, taking his lips in a long, searing kiss.

Tom groaned. Tension mounted within him, his breath coming in quick little gasps of pleasure as he rocked his hips in time with Julian’s strokes. “Close,” he whispered, “So close…more, faster.”

“Tom…” Julian said. “Tom.”

“Tom!” Julian’s voice grew distorted. Taking on a n urgent tone . 

“Tom!” 

Something shook Tom and the room began to fade away. Julian’s face, and voice, and touch dissolved.

“Wake up, Tom!”

“ Wha ?!” Tom jolted out of the dream with a shiver. He blinked, panting. “What? Who? Where am I?”

“Tom, it’s me, Chakotay. You were dreaming.” Chakotay leaned on one elbow, peering down at Tom in the filtered starlight through the viewport.

Tom rolled onto his back, blinking, suddenly aware of his aching hard-on. He met Chakotay’s eyes. “Dreaming…”

“Was it one of your nightmares? The shuttle crash, the  Krenim ?”

“I…” Tom lifted a trembling hand, pushed it through his hair. “I don’t…remember.” He winced at how easily the lie came to his lips. Lying to Chakotay, to  _ everyone _ was becoming a reflex lately. He sighed. “Did I wake you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Chakotay rubbed a hand along Tom’s arm, the gesture, intended to soothe, irritated him.

Tom sat up.

“It  _ does _ matter, ‘Tay! You need your rest as much as anyone else.” Tom got up and pulled on a light robe over  sleeping fatigues , walking into the living area.

“Tom?” Chakotay followed him. “What’s wrong? What is upsetting you?”

“ _ Nothing _ !” Tom immediately regretted the sharp response. He sighed passing a hand through his hair, blinking hard to try and erase the erotic imagery of his dream. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had a long day, and then disturbed sleep. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“You’re under a lot of pressure.” Chakotay went to the replicator. “Tea?” he glanced at Tom.

“Yeah.” Tom sank down on the sofa.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chakotay joined him on the sofa handing over  a steaming cup .

“I don’t know that there’s much to say.” Tom sipped the tea. It tasted of peppermint. He closed his eyes as a long forgotten memory surfaced.

“The first time I met Julian, I disturbed his sleep, too… I was a wreck back then, addicted to  Melorazine , boozed to the eyeballs most of the time. Just your run of the mill street trash that Jules’ roommate was stupid enough to drag home one day.”

“You’re being a little hard on yourself,” Chakotay murmured. “The things you’d gone through…”

“I’m being honest.” Tom took another mouthful of tea. “That night, I had the usual night terrors. My dead friends howling for me to save them, nagging me to come clean.” He scoffed. “If Julian had come to the bathroom door a second earlier, he would’ve caught me rifling the medicine cabinet for drugs.”

Chakotay said nothing and Tom went on.

“We ate peppermint ice-cream with chocolate sauce.”

“Choc-o-mint…still your favourite flavour,” Chakotay noted.

“Yeah. I’ve loved that since I was a kid.” Tom smiled, but quickly sobered. “We slept together that night. I should’ve walked away, Chakotay. I should never have gotten Julian tangled up with…”

“Julian was an adult, Tom. I don’t think  _ you _ were solely responsible for him becoming involved with you.”

Tom took another sip of tea and then set the cup aside. He turned to Chakotay, looking deep into concerned dark eyes. “I appreciate your faith in me, ‘Tay. Really. I do. You’re one of very few people who have ever thought me…worthy. I think it’s misguided, but I’m grateful.” He help up a hand when Chakotay opened his mouth to speak. “No, let me finish. The thing is, you didn’t know me then the way you know me now. You didn’t know that arrogant, cowardly kid who royally fucked up and then couldn’t own the responsibility of his actions. You didn’t know just how…manipulative I could be.”

“Maybe not,” Chakotay said, "but people don’t change, that fundamentally, Tom. “A lot of who and how you were back then was under the influence of a drug and I  _ did _ know you for a short time while you were getting clean…” He held Tom’s gaze for a long moment. “I’ve said this before, and I will keep saying it. That man wasn’t  _ you _ Tom.”

Tom looked away, bowed his head. He huffed a breath. “Okay, have it your way.” After a moment, he stood up. “I think I’m  gonna go to my own quarters. I need…space, and time to think.”

“I wish you’d stay.”

“I can’t,” Tom said. He walked to the door and left without a backward glance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chakotay and Julian size one another up.

Three days, twelve duty rotations, a little over thirty-six hours since Tom Paris walked out of Chakotay’s quarters without a backwards glance. In that time, they had been rostered off together twice. There had been ample opportunities to share a meal, to sit and talk on the sofa in Chakotay’s cabin, to just fucking _see_ each other in the mess hall, or on a corridor or anywhere except on the bridge during working hours when it was impossible to talk.

Chakotay sat cross-legged on the floor, his Akoona and sacred relics laid out in front of him. He’d made no attempt to meditate. He couldn’t find the quiet centre in his mind despite the Akoona’s assistance and if he were being honest, he didn’t particularly want to. His guide would be cryptic and inscrutable and what he _wanted_ right now was action, decisive, forthright action.

He stood up, tapped his com-badge. “Chakotay to Paris.”

_Lieutenant Paris has activated privacy subroutines._

“Dammit!” Why did the computer have to sound so fucking smug about it? “Computer locate Lieutenant Paris.”

_That request is unavailable. Lieutenant Paris has activated privacy sub-routines._

“Shut up!” Chakotay growled. He stalked toward the door. If he couldn’t get to the problem, he would go to the goddamned _source_ of the problem.

Crew members gave the commander a wide berth as he stormed along the corridor to a turbolift. His grim expression and purposeful step enough to make every one of them grateful he or she was not the object of his displeasure.

An ensign in security gold swiftly vacated the turbolift when the doors opened and Chakotay entered.

“Sickbay,” Chakotay muttered. He bunched his fists by his sides and attempted to regulate his breathing as the lift chirped and began to move.

By the time he reached deck five, Chakotay had reined in some of his pent up frustration. As much as Tom’s recent behaviour stemmed from Bashir’s arrival, the doctor could hardly be held to blame for it. _It’s not as though he planned to land in the Delta Quadrant._ Chakotay drew a cleansing breath and walked into the sickbay.

“Commander.” The EMH greeted him from his office. “Is there something you need?”

“I’m here to visit,” Chakotay replied. “Is Doctor Bashir awake?”

“I believe so,” the holo-doc replied. “He has not had any sedatives this morning.”

With a tight nod, Chakotay turned towards the critical care area.

\--

Staring at the ceiling was growing old. Despite having regained some blurred vision, Julian couldn’t help but wish he had something else to look at. His gaze tracked across the lighting system for the umpteenth time as he attempted to wriggle his toes. His spine was healing as well, according to the EMH, and he’d been advised to try some small movements.

“It would help if I could actually _see_ my toes,” he muttered. “I swear, as soon as I get home I’ll have mirrors installed above the ICU beds.”

“You wouldn’t be the first patient to think of that idea.”

Startled, Julian turned his head. “Who’s that? Stand where I can see you, please.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” A rustle of movement.

Bashir could make out the blurred outline of a man in command red. He seemed bulky, but his sheer presence was what struck Julian. This was a man accustomed to get what he wanted.

“Hello?” Julian narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“We met a few days ago. I’m Chakotay.”

“Ah. Yes, the Maquis Captain.”

"Voyager's first officer." The correction was quick, but without rancour. "The Maquis were a long time ago.

"Yes. Forgive me. That was...remiss."

The commander nodded acknowledgement and pulled a chair close to the bed, easing his frame onto it. “I also serve as something of a counsellor on board,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate the chance to talk.”

Julian quirked an eyebrow. “A psyche evaluation, then?”

“No. This is informal.” The commander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been thrown across the galaxy, suffered significant injuries…”

“No, you’re right. It’s exactly what I’d suggest for a patient in the same situation. Talking about my circumstances would help, of course.” He let out a breath, turned his blurred gaze to the lights above him. “My neck aches if I keep my head at an angle for too long. The EMH thinks perhaps the restraint could be removed tomorrow if my progress continues.”

“I’m glad you are healing. You must be bored here our EMH isn’t the most talkative or for that matter polite doctor you could have. Perhaps once your sight returns I could get you some reading material or audio books.”

“Kes and Tom make up for the taciturn nature of your EMH. It's quite interesting, actually, hearing about the developments in its programming. Quite ingenious. Somewhat like Lieutenant Commander Data. Artificial Intelligence seems to have this capacity for growth beyond its initial limitations. A fascinating field of study one that Garak and I...” Julian winced, trailed into silence. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “Sorry, I tend to go off on tangents.

“Mr Paris mentioned that you knew each other it must be a relief to have at least one friendly face after your ordeal.”

“I don't know about that.” Julian sighed. “Tom is the soul of professional detachment. No complaints on that score.” He cast the commander a glance. “Detachment being the operative word.”

“Oh? I got the impression you had been close before he took this assignment. Perhaps as you say Mr Paris is just being professional.”

Julian frowned. What was this man digging for? Why the focus on Tom, when his reason for coming here was ostensibly to talk about Julian’s situation. He turned his head, trying to focus on the man’s face, read his expression. He hadn’t missed the slight change of inflection on Tom’s name, the distancing by using the surname. He decided to push back a little. “That’s the second time you’ve said ‘Mr Paris.’ Something I’ve noticed about this crew, even your EMH, is how relaxed you all are about rank and titles. Yet, you say ‘Mr Paris,’ rather than Tom.”

“Our pilot has fought hard to earn the respect of the crew. I suppose I do it automatically out of respect for what he’s achieved.”

Again the deliberate emotional distance. Julian had done enough counselling on Deep Space Nine to recognize avoidance tactics when he saw them. He nodded, turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I see.”

“Please don’t think that we are lax with command structures.” Chakotay said. An edge of defensiveness crept into his tone. “We’re a well bonded crew, but we adhere to Starfleet protocols, even out here.”

“I don't think that,” Julian said. _But I do think you came here to talk about Tom, all along, Commander._ “Anyone in this crew’s situation would become familiar,” He added, turning to look at Chakotay. “It’s a natural human response. You’re in a closed environment, shared perils, common triumphs. A certain closeness…a bond, if you will, is bound to ensue.”

Chakotay shifted in his seat, stayed silent.

 _There it is!_ Julian smiled a little. _He knows just how ‘close’ Tom and I were in the past, then._

Chakotay seemed to recover himself. “You’re right. We are a tightly knit crew. Loyal to one another…unless it happens to be Pool night at Sandrines.”

Julian accepted the segue. He turned away with a chuckle then hissed in pain. “That reminds me of…poker night on DS9. Word to the wise, Commander. Never trust a Trill!”

Chakotay laughed and pushed to his feet. “I should let you rest,” he said. “Do you want me to ask the EMH to give you some pain relief?”

“It only hurts when I laugh,” Julian said. “And I prefer not to be sedated.” He locked his gaze on the commander’s face. “Give my regards to Tom…when you see him.”

“We’re on Gamma shift together. I’ll be sure to let him know how you are doing.”

“Thank you.  Perhaps, you ought to try talking to Tom. I always found a direct approach best.

Another beat of hesitation a stiffening of Chakotay’s posture and then the commander shook it off. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He turned on his heel and left.

Julian watched the man’s back until it blurred too much to bear looking at. He closed his eyes as the doors hissed open and closed behind Chakotay. _That’s certainly food for thought._  He allowed his thoughts to drift, carrying him back in time to a night when he was in Starfleet medical training.

To a beautiful blond, blue-eyed man he’d found retching his guts up over the washbasin in the apartment he shared with a student nurse named Ben. To chocolate ice cream with peppermint sauce, and chocolate tasting kisses and the cool-white-hot passion Thomas Eugene Paris embodied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian is healing, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his progress, and with a certain blonde pilot!

“I can’t do this!” Frustrated, Julian pushed away from the parallel bars and sank down on the chair behind him. I can’t _feel_ the floor beneath my feet, I feel off-balance, my head spins, I…”

“All right, we can take a break.” Kes rested a hand on Julian’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ll get you a mug of Raktajino.” She moved towards the replicator.

Julian closed his eyes, released a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“I do. I’m being ‘a right royal pain in the arse,’ as Miles would put it.”

“Miles?”

“Miles O’Brien…Chief engineer of Deep Space Nine.” Julian gazed into the middle distance. “A very good friend. He was always quick to put me in my place when I snarled at people out of frustration.”

“You must miss him greatly.” Kes returned, handed Julian the hot beverage.

“I do. I miss…everyone,” Julian said. He sipped his drink, then shook his head. “Just listen to me! Crying about how much I miss people I haven’t seen for three weeks, when you— _Voyager’s_ crew haven’t seen your families for…” He scowled, setting the mug aside.

Kes smiled. “It’s a little different for Neelix and I. We chose to join _Voyager_ on her mission. It must be difficult, being torn from your loved ones without warning or a chance to say goodbye.”

“Yes.” Julian met her gaze. “Very. I… would be married by now, if I hadn’t wound up here.”

“Oh, Julian.” Kes’ eyes filled with empathy and she reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Elim Garak. My intended.” Julian chuckled. “Although, when I first encountered him aboard Deep Space Nine, I would never have imagined _marrying_ him.”

Kes smiled in that gentle way she had and Julian bowed his head. “I wonder if he’s looking for me. I wonder if anyone is. I wonder if they even know I’m alive.” He swallowed against the bitter ball of emotion at the back of his throat.

“I’m sure that your loved ones wouldn’t have given you up for lost yet,” Kes murmured. “From what I’ve observed, people from the Alpha Quadrant, from _Starfleet_ are very tenacious.”

“Garak isn’t a member of Starfleet. He’s Cardassian, a tailor.” Julian chuckled. “I was absolutely terrified of him at first.”

Kes glanced over her shoulder as the sickbay doors slid open. “Oh. Tom’s here, it must be time for a shift change.” She turned to Julian. “Let’s continue your rehab tomorrow. You’re doing better than you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Julian allowed the woman to take his arm, assisting him as he half stumbled back to the bio-bed and lay down. He let Kes arrange his legs for him before she pressed a button with her foot, raising the bed back to its working height. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

“I look forward to hearing more about your betrothed,” Kes said.

Julian closed his eyes more tired than he cared to admit. He allowed his thoughts to drift, calling an image of Garak’s face to mind. _Will I ever get back to you, Elim?_ Are _you looking for me?_

“Good afternoon.”

Julian opened his eyes, raising his head a little from the pillow to look into the clear blue eyes of _Voyager’s_ pilot. “Tom…” he smiled at the eye contact, but felt that delight falter when Tom quickly averted his gaze, busying himself with the bio-feedback screen above Julian’s bed.

“I thought you might like to shave, today,” Tom said.

“I must look a fright.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Tom flicked a cursory glance across Julian’s features and away again. “I just thought, if it were me lying in here for three weeks without access to a shaver, I’d be going nuts by now..”

“I… yes, I would like that.” _Anything to have Tom spend more than three nano-seconds adjusting my pillows or pouring me a glass of water before hiding away in the doctor’s office._

“All right, I’ll get everything ready.” Tom moved to a bank of cabinets a short distance away, gathering personal grooming items. He returned after a moment. “You have a choice,” he said as he laid the items out, one at a time on the over-bed table. “Sonic shaver, straight edge razor. We even have a traditional Vulcan blade if you prefer?”

“A sonic shaver is fine,” Julian replied. “Would you help me to sit up?”

Nodding, Tom moved to Julian’s side, supporting his shoulders as he operated controls to raise the head of the bio-bed. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

“You and Kes seem to be getting along well,” Tom said. “He picked up the shaving device and powered it on, a gentle blue glow emitting from one end of it. He handed it to Julian.

“She’s a good nurse,” Julian said. He took the shaver and fumbled with it, using both hands to position it in his right hand. “Do you have a mirror?”

Tom picked up a shaving mirror, holding it in front of Julian. “Better than I am.”

“I didn’t _say_ that!” Julian looked up, trying to catch Tom’s gaze.

Tom sighed. “I wasn’t implying that you did. I’m a pilot, Julian. My one semester of field medicine at the academy hardly prepared me for… He made a dismissive gesture. “Sickbay on board a starship lost in uncharted space.”

“Hm…needs must, I suppose.” Julian frowned as his hand trembled guiding the shaver across  his jaw.

Tom scoffed. “If nothing else, I hope to go down in the Starfleet annals as a warning against sending ships out of space dock, no matter how short their _intended_ missions, without a full complement of science personnel.”

“I had noticed something of a dearth of science green aboard…shit!” Julian scowled as the shaver slipped from his weakened grasp and bounced to the floor at Tom’s feet.

“I’ll get it,” Tom bent to retrieve the device. He studied Julian as the doctor flexed the fingers of his right hand. “It’ll get better.”

Julian looked up. “Are you _certain_ of that, Tom?” He shook his head as frustration welled within him. “Everyone keeps assuring me that I’ll recover, that I’m getting better…Well, I don’t see it! I don’t _feel_ it, Tom! Oh yes, I can manage—with assistance—to get on my feet, and shuffle a few steps.” He waved a hand at the parallel bars he’d been using with Kes. “But I don’t _feel_ any better!”

Tom said nothing. He met Julian’s eyes.

“ _Finally!_ ” Julian cried. “Do you know how many days it’s been since you looked at me, Tom? I mean _really_ looked me in the eye?”

“I…” Tom shuffled his feet, glanced towards the doctor’s office.

“Too bloody long!” Julian grunted in satisfaction at the hot colour creeping up from under Tom’s collar, staining his neck, his cheeks, making the blue eyes stand out as the pilot turned to him.

“I’m…sorry.” Tom huffed a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t mean to be…”

Julian drew a breath, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it between pursed lips. “It’s so utterly _frustrating,_ Tom, when you turn away, when you hide yourself…” He bit his lip. “When you walk out of here and I’m stuck with the EMH, or Kes, when all I want to do is go after you and…”

Tom took an abrupt step away from the bio-bed. “Don’t,” he said. “Please, Julian.”

“No Tom! Don’t _you_ walk away! Don’t do that again. If what we had, what we were to one another once meant anything to you. Don’t dismiss it. You’re the closest thing to any sort of connection I have, here. I _need_ you.”

Tom bowed his head, turning the shaver over in his slender, elegant fingers. He wouldn’t meet Julian’s eyes, but he didn’t move any further away.

“I dreamed,” he said. “About you. About us.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t be with you, Julian,” Tom breathed out the words. “Everything is different now. I can’t…”

“I’m not asking for anything more than friendship, Tom.” True enough on the surface. He _did_ need a friend. Another part of him, hidden deep inside, understood the lie in his words.  That secret part would have to be pushed down, stifled. In order to survive, Julian must accept only what Tom was willing to offer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian gets back on his feet, and Tom almost reveals a secret. Almost

“And so, I told him that even if I am his patient, I am in fact the senior ranking medical officer on board at present, and he had better listen to what I had to say.”

Tom shook his head, pausing with a forkful of Leola root stew halfway to his mouth. “I’ll bet _that_ went over well.” He smiled. “The EMH is a good doctor, Julian. I know his bedside manner leaves…something to be desired. He’s saved our hides more than once, though.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I think he is a good physician,” Julian replied. “But he is an _emergency_ measure. It’s not his fault that his programming didn’t extend to longer term solutions. I’m only sorry…and mildly embarrassed that it didn’t occur to me sooner. I could have been out of that damned infir…er sickbay far sooner.”

“Well, you were pretty banged up,” Tom said. “Most of your energies have been focused on recovery.” He took another bite of stew before setting the fork down on his plate. “It’s hardly surprising that your mind was in patient mode rather than healer. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I should have thought of using a neuro stimulator too.”

Julian shrugged. “Well, the point is moot. It’s been thought of now, and here I am. I can’t tell you how _good_ it feels to be on my own two feet without someone having to hold my hand.” He took a sip of coffee. “And…I’m glad your replicators can approximate a good Plomeek broth. Because _that…”_ He pointed at Tom’s plate. “Is very much an acquired taste which I have absolutely no intention of acquiring.”

Tom laughed. “Tell me that when you’re down to enough rations for real coffee _or_ Plomeek. If I recall correctly, Julian Bashir sans his morning coffee would rival even the EMH for surliness.

 _“_ Ow! _Touché_.” Julian chuckled and pushed his empty bowl away, leaning back in his seat. “I hope to be released from sickbay altogether in the next few days.”

“Yeah. I think it’s just a matter of finding quarters for you. Chakotay says the former medical officer’s quarters are available. They were sealed after Doctor McGarry[i] was killed.” Tom frowned and lowered his gaze to his plate. “While I wasn’t exactly enamoured of the guy, the handling of his death—of all their deaths—is something I’ve never quite seen eye-to-eye with the captain on.”

“Command decisions seldom manage to please everyone.” Julian studied Tom for a moment, noting the slight downtick of the pilot’s eyebrows, the momentary flicker of annoyance. _That stubborn rebellious streak still runs just below the surface, doesn’t it?_

Tom looked up, meeting Julian’s gaze. “I get that. I really do. I understand that command staff walk a fine line, but McGarry, Cavit…Stadi and so many others were killed on what should have been a shakedown cruise to the Badlands and back to round up a bunch of rebels. And…sure, there was a memorial of sorts after the fact, but…then their cabins and their _lives_ were sealed up and they’re never mentioned anymore except in passing, or if we have need of their quarters.” Tom sat back, pushing his half-eaten plate of stew aside.

“I’ll happily take another cabin if using Doctor McGarry’s bothers you that much.”

“No. That’s not the point.” Tom shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s time I got you back to sickbay anyway.”

Julian nodded and slowly got to his feet. “I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me.”

The terse reply came just a tad too quickly, but Julian decided to let it slide. He walked beside the pilot as they made their way out to the hallway, but something niggled. That slight hesitation before Tom had said a name. “Who was Stadi?”

Tom shot him a sidelong glance. “My predecessor. Lieutenant Veronica Stadi[ii]. A Betazoid. She was…”

“She meant something to you. I’m sorry.”

Tom huffed a breath. “I only associated with her for the time it took to fly up to Voyager She was gorgeous and I was fresh out of prison.” He shrugged and gave a soft, rueful chuckle. “Of course, she wasn’t interested in my ‘warp speed’ seduction technique.” Tom stopped and pressed the call button for a turbolift when they reached the end of the hall. He turned to Julian. “What I’m getting at, is they were living, breathing people who died in the line of duty and no-one even seems to remember them or care.” He quickly turned away.

Julian frowned. He’d noticed the glitter of tears in that instant before Tom looked away. “Tom, what’s this really about?”

Tom closed his eyes. Julian saw him swallow hard against whatever unnamed grief assailed him.

“That’s a long story, and I don’t think I’m ready to tell it in a public thoroughfare.”

“All right.” Julian sighed. “But as your doctor, and a friend, I’m going to make sure you tell it to me at a more appropriate time.”

Tom said nothing, merely nodding as they stepped into the turbolift and he ordered it to Sickbay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i] The Chief Medical Officer in Caretaker is never named in canon, however fans have surmised that he might have been L. McGarry, or T. Zeigler, both science officers of Lieutenant rank named on a casualty list seen in 07x02 Imperfection. I chose to name him McGarry, because the actor Jeff McCarthy, who played him has Mc in his surname also.
> 
> [ii] Lieutenant Stadi did not have a first name in the original script for Caretaker, but her first name is given as Veronica in the non-canon video game Star Trek: starship creator. I decided to go with that.


End file.
